"Not Archie ?" "Yes, Archie and you." "What do they say ?" asked Jane, her voice fallen to a whisper.
"They say it's your child, and that ye're afraid to tell who the father is." Jane caught at the chair for support and then sank slowly into her seat.
"Who says so ?" she gasped.
"Nobody that you or I know; some of the beach-combers and hide-by-nights, I think, started it.

Pokeberry's girl told me; her brother works in the shipyard." Jane sat looking at Martha with staring eyes.
"How dare they--" "They dare do anything, and we can't answer back.

That's what's goin' to make it hard.

It's nobody's business, but that don't satisfy 'em.
I've been through it meself; I know how mean they can be." "They shall never know--not while I have life left in me," Jane exclaimed firmly.
"Yes, but that won't keep 'em from lyin'." The two sat still for some minutes, Martha gazing into vacancy, Jane lying back in her chair, her eyes closed.

One emotion after another coursed through her with lightning rapidity--indignation at the charge, horror at the thought that any of her friends might believe it, followed by a shivering fear that her father's good name, for all her care and suffering, might be smirched at last.
Suddenly there arose the tall image of Doctor John, with his frank, tender face.